The Fate Escape
by Brunswickers United
Summary: Sarah, James, Udtuney, and Sybil may think they have won not only the Revolution  but also their "war" of love, but they are wrong. When they are called to their biggest test yet, will they be able to keep old wounds closed? Sequel to JHLOM!
1. Chapter 1

The time has come! This is my sequel to the beloved "Journalists, Heroes, Love, OH MY!", and I will have you know I am going to try to write longer chapters. But unfortunately this chapter isn't the best example. Disclaimer- I do not own Liberty's Kids or these characters. I only own their actions in this story. Here I go! Note- I will write in different perspectives this time.

Introduction

Sarah's Point of View

As I kissed James, I knew everything in my life was right. I knew I wouldn't ever have to be alone again in the solitude of my head. I firmly believed I had made the right decision. I gazed into my husband's eyes. They reminded me scarily of all the perpetual sunsets I had witnessed on the calm harbor with my mother. I felt as if all my troubles were fading in the west, and something brand new was on my horizon.

Little did I know what was coming could not be categorized into something as simple as a horizon. What was coming was the onset. It was the onset of my storm… and my downfall.

-BeastlyBrunswicker of Brunswickers United


	2. Chapter 2

Here I am once again to update! I guess my introduction didn't tell very much, but perhaps this chapter will. It is now a few months after the wedding (the introduction kiss was the wedding kiss) and both couples have been living peacefully. The Hutchinson's found a nice house using Sybil's dowry, and Udtuney found a job as a silversmith. I do not own these characters or Liberty's Kids.

Chapter 1- Startling Happenings

Sarah's P.O.V.

"Sarah! You have a letter! But this time I don't think it is fan mail!" Henri called happily.

I rushed in, in my usual apparel of a simple dress and a band taming my cascading red locks, to read my letter. I informed Henri,

"I've been expecting something from my dear aunt Henrietta."

"It should be _Henri-Etta_!" Henri joked before slipping outside to cause some sort of trouble on his break.

But much to my surprise, the envelope did not contain an invitation to a family reunion. This is what the letter read in hard to decipher scrawled out pen:

**Sarah Hiller,**

**You have been selected to come to a women's writer's convention. Bring a new piece and yourself to 1808 West Avenue, Williamsburg, Virginia as soon as you can, but at the latest one month. Tell no one; this is not a public event.**

**-Staff of Women Writers Club**

I was quite puzzled by this letter. I inadvertently called James, out of habit. He replied,

"I'll be there in a moment, Sarah."

I then glanced at the letter, feeling there was something I forgot. The words "tell no one" glared up at me, ready to punch me in an instant. James rushed in quickly. Even though his tone had been casual, he is always worried about me these days so he really took it seriously. His exasperated cry only proved my point more,

"Sarah? Sarah, are you all right? Do you need something? Are you-"

I cut him off quickly,

"No, no. I am fine. However I have just received a letter urging me to Williamsburg. I shall pack today and depart tomorrow if that is realistic."

James looked at me sternly. As I said, he has been like this for a while- an overprotective mother. But his reason was at least comprehendible. He pleaded strongly,

"Sarah, please. You know it isn't a good idea to travel in the state you are in. If it is that urgent, I can go myself and do whatever it is they wish you to do."

"James! You know I am not due for months! I'll send articles for the paper by mail. I am going, and I am going alone," I declared, trying hard to be stubborn.

James dared to say,

"But don't you remember what happened the last time we were separated for no good reason and someone never wrote?"

I couldn't believe he would bring up such a touchy subject (Author Note: James is referring to the events in Journalists, Heroes, Love, OH MY!). Especially because we'd agreed to not bring it up. As much as I love James, his headstrong manner gets me every now and then. I couldn't control my anger, so I shot back,

"Watch your potato trap, Hiller!"

I then marched up the stairs. I wasn't yet on my bed before I remembered my last name was Hiller too, and that it was James' bed too. He is James, who I am not supposed to keep secrets from and snap at. He is James, who loves me even more than his writing.

But my heart said James would want me to go do this. If only I could tell him…

Meanwhile

Udtuney's P.O.V.

Right when I saw that horse tied to the front tree of my house, I knew something wasn't quite right. I put my sack over my shoulder so I could open the door. Before my tired hands could grasp the doorknob, the door was slung open by my wife, Sybil.

"Udtuney, it is urgent! Come in, now!" She urged, looking horrified.

I found an officer looking things over in our small parlor room. Everything was shattered or ripped. The beautiful velvet cushion had been stabbed with something. The two paintings on the fireplace had parts of them burned, and their frames had been mangled with. The metal candlesticks had been stolen, and the wax was somehow all over the ceiling. The floor was filled with broken glass from the chandelier. There were deep dents in the wall, and our only tapestry had been torn to a million pieces.

But the worst part was that our hidden box of money had been stolen.

"Our money, officer they took our money! You must do something, for that is all we have other than what we have in our pockets!" I yelped frantically.

Just then, the detective came in. He bombarded me with questions:

"Does anyone else know where you hide your money box?"

"Who are your neighbors?"

"Do you have any relatives?"

"Do you have any enemies?"

I answered these questions with no, the Jones' and the Richardson's, my grandparents in New York, and I don't think so.

Then he asked,

"What entrances are there to the house?"

I suddenly got a horrible, sick, and guilty feeling that must have looked worse than Sybil's earlier expression. I gulped,

"We have the front door through which you came in and a back door in the kitchen."

The detective's stone cold eyes looked ready to kill at any moment. So when they stared into mine, I realized I should tell all.

"I usually go to work coming out of the front door, but today I was running late so I had to go out the back door right after I ate. I think I may have forgotten to latch it in my rush," I whispered, feeling my expression spread through my heart like poison.

The two men marched over and inspected the back door. Sybil, thankfully, had been at the market at the time, so we at least had food. I nibbled ferociously on a carrot to get my apprehension out. I was unsuccessful. Who would rob us? Why would they? Without any money, how were we going to survive?

The officer retorted to me this when they had finished,

"Mr. Hutchinson, if you ride in the rain you will catch a cold. If you kick a pig you will get no fresh meat. If you leave a door unlatched you will be robbed. What comes around goes around!"

I hadn't ever thought of that saying like that, but I also didn't think of life like this and here I was.

-BeastlyBrunswicker of Brunswickers United


	3. Chapter 3

Hey guys! Now I would apologize for once again being jerky and not updating, but this was for a good reason. I am not going to tell you that reason because in time it might reveal my identity. Also, I was waiting for a review, so thank PhantomFandom (and read her story which I so approve of and like because it has similar characters to this one ). Now at the end of this chapter there is a cliffhanger, but it isn't what you think. No one is kidnapping or going to physically hurt Sarah, because that might not be K+. I really hope you enjoy this chapter!

Chapter 3- A Difficult Place

Sarah's P.O.V

The blustering winds hid the scorching August temperature. My coach came to an abrupt halt. I stared out the window with my curious eyes' vision sweeping around a small cottage.

"Sarah, here we are at 1808 West Avenue. Have a splendid time. I will check back with you in three days," said Mr. Adams (he had driven me because he had business in Williamsburg as well) gaily as he rode off into the early morning light.

I actually was worried that perhaps the host/hostess was not up yet because it was only 7:30. So I decided to take a walk through the woods that was on the other side of the road. Waiting for Mr. Adams to get out of eyesight, I gazed at the house. There were only two windows I could see, and they were both shrouded with grit. The flowers out in the garden hadn't been tended to in a while. I inferred this from their limp petals and wilting stems.

I found this all quite sinister, but perhaps the groom was away. I turned my attention to the woods. Stepping carefully over a vine, I strolled down the trail. I hadn't been walking for a minute when I heard something. Someone was screaming from inside the cottage. My instinct told me to see if someone needed help.

With an equally silent manner as an owl in the dead of night, I strode down the dry grass. The cottage was constructed of bricks, but the roof was slapped together with various materials I couldn't identify. Honestly, it wasn't very attractive. I could just imagine my mother standing next to me exclaiming softly,

"My, what an eyesore!"

I slipped up the steps that had loose cobblestone but at least were safe to look at. I knocked on the door three times. A chill ran up my spine. I heard heavy footsteps coming in my direction; but they walked away without answering. I pressed my ear to the wooden door, hoping not to get a splinter. What I heard was not a cry for help but splashing water. Once again copying an owl's silent manner, I sneaked around the corner. "Perhaps," I thought, "I can rap on the window. The person may have not heard me and continued what they were up to. Furthermore, they might be closer to this window."

Though from a distance it had looked shrouded with dirt, up close I was able to see inside the window. Once more, I rapped three times. This time all I heard was my own breath. Something here just wasn't adding up. I peered inside to see a broom closet. There was nothing I could see that suggested any suspicious activity.

Suddenly, someone grabbed me from behind. I fell backward into their grasp. But, before I could see who it was, their hand came over my eyes and mouth. A low voice growled,

"Don't say a word, Sarah!"

Meanwhile

Sybil's P.O.V.

The police had left our house in hope of finding the thief. I normally would have given anyone who forgot to latch a door a good lecture, but I spared my husband. Instead I demanded,

"How much money do you have in your pockets?"

Udtuney shakily retrieved two small coins from his coat pocket and bowed his head as he thrust them towards me. I nodded and began to pace.

"The business of silver smiths is slow around here these days. Our house is too expensive for us now. I say we move to a place where you can find a good job," I commented.

Udtuney looked up at me with hurt eyes. He croaked,

"Sybil, my love, I hate to say this. I think it may be easier if you go back and live with your family while I look for a job. Then-"

"No," I yelled trying to compose myself, "Udtuney I'm coming with you wherever you go. I am not going to let you face this world alone. If I need to get a job myself, I shall do so."

My husband still seemed uncertain, but his protest was firm,

"Sybil, I'm sorry, but most people don't want a woman to work for them. Some people don't even want me."

I thought about that. Where was a place both men and woman worked? Then suddenly, like an apple falling and hitting you on the head, it came to me. Excited, I exclaimed,

"Udtuney, it is so simple…the print shop!"


	4. Chapter 4

Hey, everyone, BeastlyBrunswicker here. So in this chapter, I would like to introduce an O.C. She is only mentioned in this particular chapter, and doesn't have a huge role, but I needed her. I felt bad I didn't really do anything with Henri in J.H.L.O.M, so I will at least have some things happen to him in this story. For instance, I have my O.C., his love interest. Hope you enjoy this chapter and its contents.  
>Disclaimer: I don't own Liberty's Kids!<p>

Chapter 4- Long Time, No See

James' P.O.V

I woke up feeling lonesome. Sarah was still gone. Sighing, I dressed and meet Henri for breakfast. Henri, young man he was, still had a mind only for food. He looked tragic like he'd just lost a war as he whispered for the third time (one for every day Sarah had been gone),

"Who will cook for us, James? Sarah always knew how to cook something good."

I chuckled,

"Henri, for the last time, Sarah's not dead! She'll be back before you know it. We'll have some bread and butter, how about?"

If I had known all that was to come, I might not have been so sure of my words. As we ate, I realized Sarah's article hadn't come. That meant I'd need something to fill the space. A perhaps silly but possible thought came to me. Inspired, I exclaimed,

"Henri, do you remember that doodle you showed me yesterday? Since Sarah didn't send her article, why don't we put it in the paper? It will be quicker than writing a whole new article."

"How will we put it in the paper?" Henri insisted. We decided Henri would have to draw it in. It would be tough, but I promised him extra pay. Henri was sure at a tough age. He still has every right to live in the print shop, because it is his home, but he seems to want his own house. He doesn't want to give up the food and company Sarah and I give him, but he feels he should.

He does, however, have a light in the dark- his love interest, Samantha Baker. Samantha is mischievous and fun-loving, just like him. She has long black hair and is very pretty (but nothing like Sarah).

The doodle of George Washington holding up the colonies was scribbled in by Henri while I worked the press. We had been working hard for a few hours, until a quick knock at the door came. Henri ran without hesitation to get it. His words reached me first,

"_Magnifique_, it is Udtuney and Sybil!"

I froze, as a glacier of hurt erected around me. I hadn't seen the Hutchinson's since our wedding, and frankly was skeptical about seeing them. What if we got into another fight? I was guided by the fact that I loved Sarah and I knew Sarah would at least hear what they had to say. Only looking up slightly from the press, I called,

"What a surprise! Can I help you two with anything?"

I forced myself to look at them. Nothing, nothing at all had changed in their appearance. Udtuney still had his unmistakable blond hair and Sybil still had her signature smile. I felt no pain or yearning, only the feeling of the second frost in winter- colder because atop of old coldness.

Udtuney spoke slowly yet seriously as he bellowed,

"James Hiller, your sign outside does not imply you are hiring help…but we would like to inquire on that matter anyhow."

I would not have been more surprised unless a reliable source told me the Treaty of Paris was a fake. Udtuney, a soldier with occasional bad grammar, and Sybil, a stubborn farm girl, wanted to work for a newspaper? Did they think they could take advantage of the fact we were "friends"? I stared at them and demanded softly,

"What in the name of George Washington is going on?"

Udtuney seemed a bit intimidated, but Sybil was undaunted as she explained,

"James, there's no reason to get all strict. In a long story short, we were robbed a few days ago. We are not trying to take advantage of you and Sarah in any way whatsoever. We just knew it was a successful business both men and women participate in and contribute to."

"Do you think it is as simple as that? We don't participate and contribute to our newspaper, Sybil, we establish and run it. Furthermore, Sarah is away and I would need her consent," I pushed on. I knew I was being harsh, but Sarah and I were at a stable point in our lives! I guess it wasn't that I didn't want them working, but more I was still hurt beneath the coldness. Just the knowledge they were standing in the print shop opened my old wounds. Henri had other ideas as he persisted,

"Oh, now James is just sad because Sarah isn't here. Of course you can stay with us!"

I was about to scold Henri for being rash, but then I realized I was being unfair. Sybil and Udtuney couldn't live out in the streets. That would be ridiculous. I softened my face and opened my scarred heart.

"You know what, I am sorry. I'm being ridiculous. You are valuable, honest people I would love to have in my company and in my newspaper. In fact, I would encourage you to live and work here," I poured out, trying to be generous.

You could tell the still had doubts on how I was feeling, but we all smiled and laughed as we discussed plans.

But something, I was certain, was stirring in the air…

Meanwhile  
>Sarah's P.O.V.<p>

I was dragged inside the cottage and there I finally broke away. I gasped, as I stared into the eyes of the man. His eyes were a beautiful, strong rose. But its thorns had risen above it and hid it from the naked eye. I had once seen the rose, and had been charmed by it, but now with the thorns so high I thought it was possible the rose was gone. Its own thorns it had created by itself had overpowered it, and no trace other than memory of its beauty was left behind.

The man was Benedict Arnold.

Stay tuned! –BeastlyBrunswicker of Brunswickers United


	5. Chapter 5

Hey readers, I know it has been a while. I lost my next few chapters! But that's all right. I'll just start fresh. We left off when Udtuney and Sybil were looking for work at the print shop, and when Sarah is at a "convention". So I hope this pleases you, and as always remember that I don't own Liberty's Kids.

Chapter 5-Last Request

Sarah's P.O.V.

He was old, and frail. I could make a run for it. I knew he wouldn't hurt me, but even the mere mention of his name angered me. So many others and I had been inspired by him then, but now I was ashamed to even think about it. I started for the door.

"Sarah, please! Sarah Phillips, don't leave me now!" he whispered.

"That is not my name you-"I stopped dead as his tears glistened in the dim morning light. Never had I seen such an expression on his face. It was guilt, but layered with desperation and lost faith. I changed my tone as I spoke,

"What do you want from me, Mr. Arnold?"

He sighed, sounding troubled,

"Please, Sarah, won't you grant a dying man a wish? You may not be my daughter, but you are more of one then my Sophia and my Hannah. Won't you at least have a drink with me?"

My mind raced to the door, and my heart raced to the seat next to him. I had no idea what to do. Before I could decide, fate swept me up and carried me to my heart's desired destination. He smiled weakly, and poured me wine. I found it very odd to be having wine in the morning, but I suppose he had his reasons. His old self, the one I had adored, shone through as he asked,

"Tell me then, how are you and James? Oh, and please forgive me for saying your maiden name. I am afraid it was a force of habit."

I poured out everything to him, before I knew what I was doing. I told him of our newspaper, the huge affair with Sybil and Udtuney, about Henri, and even about my being pregnant. He listened intently, as if hearing it all would somehow cure the evil of his soul. I finally had enough of talking about myself, so I questioned,

"But, Mr. Arnold, what about you? What have you been doing?"

He looked startled that I even had the slightest interest in him. He hesitated, and then said softly,

"Nothing too heroic, I am afraid. But alas, I have done much thinking, thinking about you, dear Sarah. I did what I did, and I know you may not ever put that behind you. Understand if you will, you were the last person I wanted to heart. You've such a young, fine mind and a heart that didn't need to be broken again. I see that know. I give you my fullest apology, though it is not fit for someone as wonderful as you. I know I don't deserve it; however will you at least hear my last request?"

I swallowed, a bit worried. I thought it had been for me to have a drink with him.

"Yes?" I stammered.

"Your forgiveness."

Henri's P.O.V.

My quiet fireside reading was interrupted by screaming. Nasty words were being tossed around like a ball. I could see why James hadn't wanted them here. He was still angry. I wasn't sure about the other two, but if they had gotten over it, James had probably gotten it back in them with his words. I did what I always did when, as it often happened, I was unsure of what to do. I thought about what Dr. Franklin would do. He, most likely, would not want me to get involved. It was late, but not too late, so I slipped out the back door. My feet knew where to go, so my eyes had a rest. I wound around the darkened streets until I arrived. There it was. The alley I knew quite well. There she was.

"Henri! Did you bring any food?"

Her eyes made the whole place burst with light. Her kindness and creativeness blended together with mine. She and I may have been more adults, but we were both so young at heart.

"Samantha, we had nothing extra. I am so sorry." I sighed. James and Sarah knew I like Samantha Baker, but what they didn't know is that she just recently was disowned. She didn't know what to do about it, and I didn't either. She was disappointed, but not discouraged. She whispered,

"Thank you for coming, at least. You know, just seeing someone who cares helps a whole lot. I'll see if I can get a sample of anything in the market tomorrow. Would you like to come?"

"You know it, Sam. We'll find ourselves a feast and a half!"

She laughed with me. I knew if James were here, he would have too. But he was too wrapped up in the past. I sighed as I said farewell, and walked back to the print shop.

-BeastlyBrunswicker of Brunswickers United


	6. Chapter 6

It has been awhile, huh? We left off with Sarah talking with Benedict Arnold, and Henri and Samantha plotting. But, in this chapter, we are going to go back to the world of James, Sybil, and Udtuney.

Disclaimer: I do not own Liberty's Kids!

Chapter 6- The Test

James's P.O.V.

I stirred underneath my covers. I couldn't get it out of my mind. Sybil, Udtuney, and I had just had a "heated discussion". Nothing I had said was particularly with tact, and yet I hadn't said anything untrue. So why did I feel so guilty? Why did I feel like I had done something wrong? Was it because I missed the relationship I'd had with Sybil? No, I was happier than I'd ever been in my life. I guess it was because I wasn't sure I'd ever be able to feel comfortable with the two of them. My wounds, perhaps, would heal, but my scars would be branded on my skin forever. The more important thing, was could I trust them? I realized as long as they were in my home, I would have to. I made a decision before letting sleep envelope me. I would have to, at the bare minimum, give them a test.

Udtuney's P.O.V.

"James Hiller, you are giving us a test? Do you think we aren't worthy of working here?" Sybil stammered. Well, I thought, you can't blame him. Neither of us had any experience in the newspaper business.

"No, I just want to find out what you are good at. Henri is good at running around and getting attention, so he's our paper boy. Sarah often writes more viewpoints, and I often write more straight news. We need to find out what would be good for you," James said.

I was skeptical that I would be good at writing anything for the paper. I had thought James would let me set the type or something. Before I could reason with James, he thrust a piece of parchment and a quill at me. A sparkle in his eye could be seen, one I was pretty sure only came when writing was involved. One thing I admire about James is that he would do anything to keep writing. He is so dedicated, so driven by a career that is really hit or miss. I can't say the same for myself.

"Write about anything. Your passions, your life, anything!" he exclaimed.

I thought about writing about my lucky hat, but then decided not to. I didn't want James to think I was superstitious and make me write horoscopes. It had been years since I had written a proper essay, so I ruled that out. In the end, the only thing I could think of was writing a poem. I let my quill and ink do most of the work.

_Stand your ground men, and never leave_

_It is the British we wish to deceive  
>for they think of us weak, they think of us small<br>but we shall show them, and refuse to fall  
>shoot, fight, and never ever cease<br>to show them we fight for liberty!_

So I guess it didn't completely rhyme, and wasn't exactly brilliant. But it was the best I could do. I put my quill down and peeked at Sybil's paper. It read:

_I have never once in my life understood why men are thought better of then women. Women can do the same things as men, just as good, if not better. Well, some things. Some tasks men in general may always surpass women in and the same the other way. But how will we know for sure? Women should be educated just like men. If God creates us all with our own unique mind, why do we only use half of the world's minds? We must educate women, or our world will never be at its greatest._

I thought it was pretty good. Not as good as something Sarah would write, but it was still good. We handed James our papers, to let him mull over them. As I put away the quill and ink, I couldn't help but wonder if this test was more one of trust rather than of skill.


End file.
